Don't Fear The Reaper
by Likeahobbit
Summary: Adam's hold on sanity has always been tenuous at best. Seeing Hiro again after so many years just brings that madness to the surface.


My hold on sanity is tenuous at best, and I've known it for some time. For years I've felt madness prickle at the edges of my mind like a laugh I must stifle, or like a sneeze that won't quite come. It has festered quietly for ages, since I left Japan for good, perhaps. It is the only illness I can catch, the only ailment my body can't rid itself of. No drug I have ever tried has been able to silence it; no drink has been able to obliterate it. It exists, as I do, eternally: the only true companion I've had since I lost _him_.

Now he stands before me, unchanged and angry, my friend no longer but my inspiration still. The words that spill from my mouth are unplanned, and the idea I describe was not there until _he _was. I had not planned to heal the world after I ruined it, but looking at him makes me want to do just that. Perhaps it is spite. He was once dead set on making me his hero and instead I became his villain. Now he sees me as a monster, so it is only appropriate that I instead become a savior. I smile at the thought and caress the vial he has no idea I am holding.

The sword I'm holding to his neck doesn't falter, even when he reaches out and grabs my shoulder. I release the vial immediately, knowing what he plans on doing. The vault vanishes before I can hear the satisfying smash of glass against the floor, and we hurtle a thousand miles in a fraction of a second. He means to disorient me, I'm sure, but teleportation is no longer novel to me and I recover from the jump before he even does. The instant our feet touch new ground I am on him, grabbing his wrist and jerking his arm behind his back. A startled cry escapes him as I tug him against my body, and when I put my blade to his throat I can feel his breath catch in fear.

'Not a wise move, my friend; I've seen that little trick of yours before,' I whisper softly into his ear as I look around at our surroundings. Wherever we are, I don't recognize it; at first I think he's simply taken us to an empty field, but then I see the gravestones. Curious. 'Where have you brought us to this time?'

He doesn't answer, only struggles as much as he dares. He has kept the blade sharp, and as he tries to twist out of my grasp he accidentally nicks himself. Either the pain of it or the sensation of blood on his skin startles him into submission and he freezes even as I tighten my grip on his wrist to keep him from escaping.

'You're going to spoil my fun if you keep that up, Carp,' I chide. 'Though it would be just like you to inadvertently kill yourself before I have the pleasure of doing so.'

I press the blade closer. He tries to recoil, but my grip on him is strong and there's nowhere for him to go. He is completely at my mercy; the merest flick of my wrist and the life would leave him as I held him in my arms. Despite my earlier words, the thought gives me little pleasure. It is all too easy to spill a man's blood; a child can do so given the proper motivation. I know that if I kill Hiro Nakamura now, I will regret it later. I am now the one who will decide what path our story will take, and though I'm certain it will one day end in his death, now is not the time.

So I wait for a moment, not pressing the blade closer but not withdrawing it either. His body is taunt with tension, but I know that if I wait long enough he'll remember his talents and act. Sure enough, after less than a minute has passed the world hiccups and my arms and hands are suddenly empty.

He stands nearby, sword held up with slightly trembling hands. My eyes are drawn to the blood that oozes from the cut on his neck, and even as I watch he touches the wound gingerly. His eyes widen slightly as he sees the blood smeared on his fingers and I have to wonder: has he never been injured before? Has he never felt the bite of a knife, the sting of an arrow, the burn of a bullet? It's a pity, if he hasn't. He's beautiful when he bleeds.

'I have to stop you, Kensei,' he says, feigning a determination I can tell he doesn't really feel. He is furious with me, but even after all I have done he does not yet hate me. Whether it is lingering guilt over his own actions or that stubborn hope that he never, ever seems to let go of, he hesitates. Perhaps a part of him believes in me still.

Clearly, I haven't done enough damage.

My eyes are drawn again to the blood on his neck. It's bleeding more freely now, and I know his heart is pounding. He expects me to attack him, he's counting on it, in fact. It will be easier for him to strike a lethal blow if I move first.

I don't. I have been patiently waiting for nearly four hundred years; I can wait for him to come to me now.

He doesn't disappoint. He raises the sword to shoulder level, takes one step, and vanishes. I wait until I hear the song of metal cutting through air and then, using reflexes carefully honed over centuries, turn to my left and catch the blade with my hands as it swings towards my neck. Clever boy, remembers what I said about decapitation. Foolish boy, doesn't freeze me in time to do it.

The blade slices through my palms and tears open my arm, but I've grown accustomed to pain and instead of flinching away like most men would I grip the razor sharp edge tighter. He tugs, tearing it free of my grasp, then vanishes again. He doesn't immediately reappear this time, and while my flesh knits itself back together I scan the area for any sign of him. I see nothing besides the trees and the grass and the graves. The sun is bright over head, and its rays are warm on my newly healed skin.

I see the glint of steel before I hear it this time. He over-swings and misses almost completely, just manages to graze my back and shoulders as I spin around. The momentum from his swing keeps him going for a moment even after I've moved, and I use that to my advantage. The newly healed cuts on my hands reopen as I grab the blade for a second time and for one long moment we struggle together. In the end, his hands slip on the blood slicked handle, and I am able to rip the sword from his hands. I toss it aside into the grass at once; the weapon isn't what I want.

He cries out in surprise when I fall upon him and tangles his fingers in my shirt in a futile effort to either regain his balance or push me away. For a moment all I can see are his eyes, as bright and accusatory as they had been when he left me all those years ago. Those eyes grow wide with panic as I use my own body weight to drag us down to the ground. We land hard enough to send an unpleasant jolt through my bones and since he is beneath me I know he takes it harder than I do. I can feel his breath leave him in a warm rush against my neck as the wind is knocked out of him. He's stunned for only the barest of seconds, but that's all I need. With the simplest of movements I pin him to the ground by his wrists and regain the upper hand.

'You have to see how futile this is. You can't kill me, Hiro. Men much more clever than you have tried.'

He begins to struggle even before he catches his breath and I use all my body weight to hold him down, relishing the feel of him twisting and turning beneath me. A line of fire burns where our bodies press together. I can feel each shuddering breath he takes, each muttered curse and unvoiced plea. Somewhere deep within that part of me that is mad and unfettered, the voices of half forgotten desires begin first to whisper my name then to shriek it. _Vengeance_ is the war cry they hide behind, vengeance and blood, blood that is suddenly so close I could taste it if I wanted to.

He must be able to see the madness in my eyes because his goes very still suddenly, staring at me in the same way a fly must look at a spider. I see the last vestige of hope within him shatter and I know that finally, at last, he understands what he has done.

'Kensei,' he says and though his expression is that of terror his voice is strong and steady. 'What have you become?'

The screaming voices of madness in my head fall abruptly silent and my lips twitch into a smile that feels more like a grimace. 'I'm Death, Hiro,' I say and somehow the words are spoken against his lips. 'Every one but yours.'


End file.
